


We've Always Been Ineffable

by Aviss



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Good Omens Fusion, Brienne is an Angel, F/M, Jaime is a Demon, Six Thousand Years of Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 20:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20936582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviss/pseuds/Aviss
Summary: Brienne had it very present all the time. Even as one of the fallen, Jaime was a creature of love, she had always been able to feel it when they were together.The Good Omens AU I knew I'd end up writing someday because I love both universes so much.





	We've Always Been Ineffable

**Author's Note:**

> Oh look, I'm still capable of writing one-shots. thank the Gods for it!

They met in a bench in Baelor's park, watching the ducks going about their business the way ducks usually do, caring nothing for the affairs of men and women and other beings man-shaped. They cared only for bread, and Brienne was tearing small chunks of her white bread and throwing it to them. One of the ducks sank and failed to come up again, and she sighed, fond exasperation clear in just that gesture.

"_Really, Jaime_?"

"Sorry," Jaime said, plopping next to her on the bench at the same time the duck resurfaced, glaring balefully for a duck. "I forgot myself." There was a soft smile on the corner of his beautiful mouth that told her he really didn't, but Brienne found herself more likely to return the gesture than to chide Jaime again. 

"I've heard the slavers are back again in Mereen," she began, her tone slightly disapproving. The slaves were always revolting in Slaver's Bay since the time of the Targaryen restoration; every so often they would remember human beings were not made to be owned and take up arms against the slavers. Many would die, and a few years down the line, someone with bigger guns would come along and take up slaving again, until the next generation revolted again. It was a bloody circle that appeared to never break. 

"Don't look at me, I haven't visited those parts in decades. Too violent people," Jaime answered with distaste. "Must be Bolton operating there. _Again_"

Brienne had always wondered how Jaime had ended up falling, he wasn't particularly evil. Not compared to some of his people. He always said he had hung out with the wrong crowd, and Brienne was inclined to believe him.

She remembered him from their days in The Halls of the Seven; Brienne had been one of the angels tasked with guarding the gates, Jaime had been the most beautiful of the Seven's creations. Him and Cersei, the golden twins they were called since they looked so alike. He was radiant, all golden curls falling to his shoulders, and the greenest eyes and sharpest jaw and cheekbones. Compared to them, Brienne was ugly, for one of the Seven's creations: she was neither masculine nor feminine, tall and broad and freckled, with a figure more suited for the sword she wielded than for harps and hymns.

At that time Jaime had always been trailing after Cersei, love and awe in his gaze, and Cersei had basked in it though her eyes never held such warmth, for him or anyone else. Then the Seven had created mankind, and Cersei had grown jealous of them, of those inferior creatures who weren't as beautiful as she, but thought to take all from her. 

When she fell, she took Jaime, among many other of their brethren, with her. 

"We are made to love," Jaime had admitted to her during one of their drunken nights, his eyes sad, his vowels slurred. "I put too much love in the wrong place. By the time I realized, I was already damned." They hadn't talked about it again, but Brienne had it very present all the time. Even as one of the fallen, Jaime was a creature of love, she had always been able to feel it when they were together.

"I've been hearing rumours," Jaime said, taking her out of her reverie. "The Prince the was Promised is going to be born again. Maybe not this century, but the day is coming."

That snapped Brienne properly to the present. "Surely not!"

Jaime shrugged. "Afraid so."

"And they expect it to be a war?" She asked, though she already knew the answer. Of course they did, and her side would be chomping at the bit to take up arms against the enemy. For creatures of love, angels tended to be quite bloodthirsty.

"Not a war, _The War_," Jaime said, glumly. He appeared to be as excited at the prospect as she was. 

"We will win, of course," she felt she had to say because of course, the side of the Seven would win. It could be no other way. 

"Nobody wins in this kind of war, especially not mankind." He sounded as serious and as sad as Brienne had ever heard him. Even during the Age of Heroes, when the Sept of Baelor had been blown up earning him a commendation for something he hadn't done, he didn't sound so despairing. "I need a favour."

He handed Brienne a note and she opened and read it with a sense of trepidation. All the blood drained from her face. "Absolutely not!" She said, shocking both of them with her vehemence. "Are you insane? This thing will kill you immediately and painfully."

He snorted. "I'm aware of what it does, angel. Call it insurance, if you will."

She shook her head again, a painful feeling in her chest. "I won't." She crumpled the note and miracled it into ashes as if the mere existence of the request was too much to endure.

He looked at her for a moment, weighing his options and how easy would she be to convince to go along with him, the way he'd been doing for the past six thousand years. He must have seen there was nothing he could do or say that would make her help him and nodded, lips pressed into a thin line as he stood up.

"Fine, I'll get it in some other way," he spat at her before he left her there, sitting on the bench and staring unseeing at the ducks.

…

Brienne thought about the request, on and off, for the next thirty years. 

Even when they didn't see each other frequently Jaime wasn't too far from her thoughts. She wondered whether he'd acquired the holy water and used it, her stomach clenching at the idea. She found it unbearable, the idea of a world where Jaime didn't exist anymore. They were enemies, she knew, had been enemies since he fell, and yet she felt closer to him than she had ever to her own side. 

They had been together for six thousand years on earth, an unlikely friendship that was the best thing that had happened to her. 

She didn't see Jaime again until the war erupted in the Riverlands. She was staring at a snarling beast advancing on her while a group of mercenaries laughed and jeered. She felt a bit silly having been tricked by a human into coming here with her precious cargo or rare books in occultism, only for this to be a trap. She should have been able to miracle herself out of it, but the pit they had thrown her into had some sigils carved, too late had Brienne realized that one of the mercenaries had some occult power, and must have been guided by their adversary. 

So here she was, in a pit with a snarling bear, and the sigils didn't let her disappear from the place. She was about to get painfully discorporated, and worse, there would be paperwork to fill.

"That doesn't look very gentlemanly of you, Hoat," a voice she knew said, and she had never been happier to see Jaime in her long, long life. "You should have at least given her a weapon."

"Mithter Lannithter, we didn't know you'd come vithit uth today!" Hoat said obsequiously, "Ith alwayth a pleathure."

"Yes, yes, pleasure and all that," Jaime said, leaning over the edge of the pit, his tone leaving no doubt that it was everything but. "Hey Brienne, are you having fun over there?"

"What are you doing here, Jaime? Is _this_ what you've been up to lately?" She looked pointedly at Hoat, her lips pursed. 

"_Seven no_!" Jaime exclaimed a look of horror on his pretty face. "They are Bolton's" He turned to Hoat. "You have one minute to get her out and run away, or you'll find yourself in the pit with the beast yourselves."

"No, we don't work for you, I'll tell Bolton you're a traitor!" Hoat replied, a betrayed moue on his face. "You want her, go get her."

So he did. 

Brienne felt the pull start somewhere in her navel, the gentlest of tugs, and then she was by Jaime's side, while Hoat and all his mercenaries were inside the pit with the bear, their guns scattered outside where they had been before. Jaime was shuddering uncomfortably, miracling her out couldn't have felt good with all those sigils around. 

She turned to him, her heart swelling to three times its size just looking at his eyes. "Thank you," she said. She had not thought to see him again after the way they had parted before, and definitely not thought to see him again under these circumstances. 

"Don't mention it," Jaime said, then turned to her with a serious expression. "I mean that, don't mention it." They started walking away from the pit, and he stopped to pick up the books that had got Brienne in trouble form the beginning, handing them to her, the screams of the mercenaries being mauled by their own beast reaching them from the pit. Somehow Brienne didn't feel the urge to rescue them. "If my people find out they won't be happy, and when _she's_ not happy I end up in trouble."

He didn't need to specify what kind of trouble. With Cersei and the rest of the fallen, there was only one kind of trouble and it was always painful. 

They parted without another word, and Brienne could think of nothing else for weeks. 

Finally, against her better judgement, she filled a watertight container with pure water and blessed it herself, pouring all her love into it. She knocked on his door and pushed the container into his hands. 

"Don't make me regret this," she said, a blush staining her cheeks at the delighted expression on his face when Jaime realized what it was. 

"I won't, _angel_."

She felt butterflies fluttering in her stomach at his smile, her blush deepening and before she could make a spectacle of herself, Brienne beat a hasty retreat. 

…

Afterwards, when all was said and done, Brienne knocked on Jaime's door once again.

They had done it, they had averted the war and survived. For now. Jon Snow had chosen to be a normal kid, growing in the North with his adopted family and his snarling beast of a puppy, using his considerable power to play games in the snow instead of destroying the world. 

It had been a close thing, Brienne had been convinced at some points they would not survive. 

She had only one regret, and now that they were to continue existing, she intended to make sure she had no regrets by the time their sides had decided to destroy everything again.

There she was, knocking on his door and nervously fidgetting. 

What if she had read it wrong? Jaime was a being made for love, she had thought it before, and she could feel the love radiating out of him every time they were together. It was like a low frequency she was always hearing, a background noise of pure devotion and love, and she had always believed it was because Jaime just loved the world so much. 

Jon had stared at her as if she was the silliest thing put on earth by the Seven. 

"He always feels like that because _you_ are there," he had said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, before he'd turned around and directed Ghost to chase after Arya and the other Stark kids.

Jaime opened the door, and there it was, the feeling of overwhelming love, which hadn't been there before he opened the door. She should have been able to feel it if it was something directed to humankind, even with the door between them, because it was such a powerful feeling she would have felt it from two blocks away.

"Angel? Is something wrong?" he asked, seeing the trepidation on her face. "Has your side contacted you? I thought we'd have more time before the--"

She didn't let him finish speaking, six thousand years more than enough to admit that yes, she might love him too. She might have loved him from the time she saw him trailing after Cersei and he was the only angel in their group to turn his head and look at the lone figure guarding the gates to the Halls and give her a smile that could rival the sun in radiance. 

It had been six thousand years since she considered whether to make an effort for him, and she was going to make it right now. 

She pushed him inside, kissing the words on his lips and grabbing two handfuls of those luscious golden curls she had always wanted to touch. Jaime made a shocked noise, for a suspended second Brienne felt that trepidation again, that doubt, and then he had her pressed against the wall kissing her back with everything he had. 

She could feel his love against her skin, a thrumming of pure delight, and saw the shimmer of his beautiful wings expanding at his back. And he kissed, and kissed her, and kissed her. Making up for the lost time and thousands of years of pining, kissed her like only two beings who didn't need to breathe could kiss, long and deep and intimate. 

She finally pushed him back after an indeterminate amount of time and pressed their foreheads together. 

"Angel," he began, his voice a ruin. "Why--"

She smiled and pressed her lips against his mouth, short and chaste. "I'm sorry I took this long to see what it was in front of me," she said, thinking of all the millennia which would have been so much more bearable if she could have had this. 

"I knew you'd catch up eventually, Angel, I was willing to wait."

"Of course I'd catch up, we were always ineffable."

...


End file.
